in the morning, i'll let you die
by xIrelandx
Summary: UPDATED: Formatting issues fixed! / "It's not that I don't want to," he explained, though Apollo was cynical. "But you need someone to take care of you, since you're not going to take care of yourself." Phoenix takes care of Apollo after Clay's death. Takes place immediately following Dual Destinies. SMUT.


Apollo felt as though the universe had swallowed him up whole, then spat him back out again. He'd never been so exhausted, emotionally or physically – though he supposed the former inspired the latter. He had no other reason to feel his bones ache. He hadn't been doing any heavy lifting, save for his own heart.

And now he was getting poetic. It was nonsense, but he couldn't find it in himself to stop.

Apollo lay on one of the two parallel couches in the front room of the Wright Anything Agency/Phoenix and Trucy's apartment. He had been contemplating life and thinking about death (or should that be the other way around) for the past hour and a half. He should have been getting work done, as there was no shortage of paperwork and there never was or would be. But despite his best efforts, all Apollo could think about was Clay. He'd even begun to have nightmares, or maybe just bad dreams; dreams where Clay was falling and Apollo just couldn't catch him in time. He hadn't slept in a week.

Apollo must have been spacing out. He couldn't recall anyone leaving the apartment, yet he was ostensibly alone now. He felt as though he was in a dream, his movements too languid to be in his control. He slipped off his shoes and socks, unbuttoned his vest, and loosened his tie. He let all the unnecessary articles of clothing drop to the floor, and although he was still covered he felt naked. Bare. Practically see-through.

"Apollo? Are you still in here?" Apollo's heart fluttered as he heard his boss and friend pad over to the couch on which he lay, sneaking around the side to the front when he realized Apollo was laying down.

He'd been too nervous to call the man anything but Mr Wright before, although the man himself had told Apollo to call him Phoenix a long time ago. But Apollo was numb now, and their hips brushed as Phoenix sat down next to him, and he wrapped an arm around Mr Wright's – Phoenix's – waist, and Phoenix kissed him on the forehead. "Phoenix," he breathed out, no explanation behind the exclamation.

"You haven't been sleeping, have you?" the older man asked. Apollo shook his head and let himself be pulled up, lead back to man's bedroom.

Phoenix kissed his forehead again, rubbing the line of his jaw as Apollo breathed heavy on his shoulder. Phoenix lifted Apollo's head to kiss him lightly on the lips and Apollo gave in. He wanted things to be faster than this –

And now Phoenix was unbuttoning his shirt, unbuckling his belt, unzipping his trousers. Apollo still felt like he couldn't move, still paralyzed by the trauma the past week had given him. Phoenix left him in his boxers and undershirt, and pushed him toward the bed

As Apollo stared at the ceiling of the tiny apartment bedroom, Phoenix undressed himself similarly. He then walked over to Apollo, placed himself above the younger man and…continued kissing him. Rubbing his neck, scraping lightly at his jaw and sucking gently on his neck. He kissed every part of Apollo that he could reach, moving the undershirt out of the way when necessary.

He pulled Apollo's legs apart, kissing his knee and rubbing the bone right below it. He ran a hand softly down Apollo's thigh and back up again, kissing a bruise on his inner thigh, left behind from the explosion of the courthouse. Apollo sighed, eyes fluttering, legs spreading a little wider. Phoenix smiled, as if thinking up some lewd comment, but stayed silent. Apollo almost wished he wouldn't, almost said he shouldn't, until soft kisses fell across his stomach.

He was starting to get hard, but he couldn't think of a way to ask for what he wanted. So he waited, as Phoenix climbed back up his chest, caressing and kissing as he went along, tickling Apollo's sides with light touches. Apollo pulled his head down so their lips could meet, and tried to push his tongue into the other man's mouth when Phoenix pushed away and shook his head.

Apollo felt a spring in his chest, an uncomfortable one that signaled something coming loose.

"It's not that I don't want to," he explained, though Apollo was cynical. "But you need someone to take care of you, since you're not going to take care of yourself." Apollo frowned in confusion, and Phoenix bowed down to kiss him softly. "I love you," he whispered, lacing their fingers together.

Apollo felt himself tear up. He wanted to say _I love you too_, or beg Phoenix to fuck him, or make some stupid joke to deflect the amount of emotion he felt and could feel coming in from Phoenix. But he couldn't. He couldn't even move, like he was comatose.

Mr Wright didn't seem to want an answer, kissing his forehead gently and moving to leave.

Apollo stopped him. He refused to let go to the fingers holding his hand, tugging Phoenix back to the bed. "Don't leave me –" alone, please, Apollo asked, half in his head.

Phoenix frowned, but retreated back to the bed, laying down beside Apollo and enveloping the smaller in his arms. Apollo didn't mind so much anymore that this was as far as they were clearly going to get – he laid back, enjoyed the warmth, and tried to remember that he was safe.

* * *

Mr Wright had placed him on mandatory leave, but hadn't kicked Apollo out of the apartment. He was practically living with Trucy and Phoenix, although neither the former nor the latter would really call it living. Apollo barely ate, hardly spoke, and though he showed Phoenix quite a bit of physical affection he rarely saw Trucy. She was trying not to take it personally, realizing what a great loss Clay's death had been to him.

One day, Apollo finally left the apartment. He was only out to take a walk, to pick some things up after realizing that the Wrights were terrible shoppers and he didn't have any of his own clothes in the apartment.

Phoenix was already out on a case, Trucy at school, Athena God-knows-where, so Apollo raided the bedroom closet. Those ridiculous clothes – the hoodie, the plain black trousers, the sandals – were all in there.

It beat wearing Clay's jacket. It was really too warm outside to be wearing this sort of thing, but he had no other choices (besides a hideous pink sweater shoved shamefully on the back top shelf). With only a moment's hesitation to run his fingers over the brim, the silly button, the lettering, Apollo took Phoenix's discarded beanie.

He couldn't remember the route he took, but he supposed he was in People Park. Apollo didn't pay much attention to the kids playing or the couples holding hands. He only needed to stretch, to see the light of day, to feel the warmth of the sun. He'd felt more alive in this little excursion than he had done in a while, though he was a far cry from doing well.

"Polly!" Apollo looked up to see Trucy walking alongside her father. She ran boisterously over to his person, wrapping him in a tight hug around the middle. Apollo patted her shoulder. "And look, daddy, he's wearing clothes! Well, he's wearing your clothes – isn't that sweet?"

Phoenix gave an odd, lopsided smile and didn't reply. Apollo touched his hips, using them as leverage to lean up and kiss him.

Phoenix frowned into the kiss, pushing Apollo back down onto his feet. "What are you doing?"

Apollo pouted. "What do you think I'm doing? Isn't it obvious?" Phoenix smiled sadly, and shook his head. "I thought you said you –"

"I do," he said softly. "But not like this. Not when you're sad, when it's taking advantage of you. Not when you'll regret it in the morning."

"But I won't," Apollo insisted. And again, he wanted to say I love you, to beg Phoenix to fuck him, to make a stupid joke. But none of that came out, and both men fell silent.

Phoenix squeezed Apollo's hands between his own. "You need to concentrate on feeling better," he said. "We can't work without you."

Apollo nodded, disappointed but understanding. Phoenix dropped the hold on his hands, and suggested they all find Eldoon's cart. Apollo agreed, keeping a few steps behind the other two.

Phoenix slept on the couch, afraid of unintentionally teasing Apollo.

* * *

It was three o'clock in the morning, and Apollo couldn't sleep. That wasn't exactly news, but he'd tried nearly everything to make himself fall asleep. No nap he'd taken had been long enough, and he was afraid of closing his eyes for fear of seeing Clay, of having to live through that experience again.

Through his sixth shower of the night, the water started to run cold. If he thought the water might be soothing, might lull him to sleep or keep his mind off Clay, he was wrong. All it did was remind him of the never-ending cold he started to feel when he was first told about the murder. The fear and the disbelief that coursed through his veins. The knowledge that he'd lost his best and only friend. That he was alone – completely and entirely alone.

Apollo slammed off the water and let himself, wet and naked, shiver on the tile. He tried to bundle himself up with towels, a robe, and blankets, but he still shivered. He soon found himself on the floor, back against the couch, trying to hold back the tears he hadn't let himself cry over Clay.

The dam broke. The levees he'd put up were too weak for two weeks' worth of backlogged emotion. The static electricity and white noise in his head began to have an argument, every actor pushing each other out of the way in favor of a bigger lie, an angrier remark. Apollo thought he might lose his mind.

He couldn't remember picking up the phone, let alone dialing, but Phoenix answered on the first ring. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Once again, Apollo couldn't answer – though not for lack of trying. The tears broke through his speech, making it impossible for him to be understood. His mouth seemed to be making noises without order, and even he wasn't sure what was coming out anymore. He heard Phoenix panic, declare he was on his way over, and a dial tone signal the end of the conversation. Apollo didn't care if he remembered to end the call, letting the phone drop from his hand in abject horror and embarrassment.

Phoenix arrived a few minutes later, using Apollo's spare key to open the door. Apollo tried again to hold back the tears, but they kept breaking free.

Phoenix was dumbstruck. "Apollo, what happened?"

"I just – don't think – I can stand it – anymore," he was hiccuping now, spasms making his chest ache as much as the emotional turmoil. "Clay's – gone – I have – no one – left." He was shaking again, but no longer from the cold. He wanted to push away as Mr Wright sat down beside him and embraced his figure, but his body disobeyed.

"Athena was r-right," he said. "I have no friends."

"You have me," he said softly. "You have her, you have Trucy, you have Klavier –"

Apollo laughed, hating himself more by the minute. "But – but who am I s-supposed to turn to when I get fired, or get my heart broken, or get seriously injured?"

He recognized the logic in his mentor's voice immediately. "Well, Trucy and I are already listed as your next of kin. There's no reason for you to be fired, Apollo. The Agency wouldn't even still be around without you. And your heart…" he trailed off, not sure what to say. "I hope –"

"I love you," Apollo said. "I know it sounds like I-I'm just talk off the top of my head. But I'm not. I wanted to say it before, but I j-just couldn't." Phoenix stayed silent and still, save for the hand running measured strokes up and down Apollo's back. "The w-words just wouldn't leave my mouth," Apollo pulled back. "But it's true. If – if you don't believe me, I can show you text messages I sent Clay –"

Phoenix cut him off with a kiss, one that felt more forceful than before. Apollo was taken aback, but pulled Phoenix into him. "I do believe you, Apollo."

Apollo puffed his cheeks out, feeling alive enough to be indignant. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Phoenix shrugged. "You didn't need that kind of attention."

Apollo could feel his heart beating in his throat. "What makes tonight any different?"

"Because you're awake." Apollo's eyes narrowed in confusion. "For the past month – ever since you heard about Clay – you've been like a ghost. I didn't see you cry, or express sadness. You put on this façade of anger, and then pretended like nothing happened once the trial was over."

Apollo shook his head. "So this isn't taking advantage of me?"

Phoenix shook his head. "Not now that I know…this is what you want." Apollo raised an eyebrow. "I thought beforehand, that this might be where we were headed. But after Clay died, I thought things had changed." Phoenix fidgeted uncomfortably, not meeting Apollo's eyes.

Something dawned on Apollo. "It wasn't just that you were afraid of me regretting it. You… didn't want me to use you."

Phoenix smirked, though not happily. "It's a pretty stupid thing for me to be afraid of, I guess," he sighed. "But it has happened before. I don't want to be that naïve again, and if you had regretted it – well, it would have made work awfully difficult."

Apollo shook his head. "Is it possible for this job to get more difficult? It's not exactly a walk in People Park, you know."

Phoenix laughed. "Yeah, I just –"

"Fuck me."

Phoenix coughed, caught off guard. "Pardon?"

"Please…fuck me."

"It wasn't your manners, Apollo. There was just no segue into that comment."

Apollo chewed on his lip. "I know. But I've…spent too long, not speaking my mind. Clay died…abruptly. I could too. So could you. Trucy could be dead tomorrow –"

"Please, can we not talk about that?"

"I just mean," Apollo said, breathing as evenly as he could, "that I don't want to hold back on something. I was afraid – of Clay's death, I mean. But I can't – I need to stop thinking about that. I don't mean his death in specific, I just mean –" Apollo threw his hands in the air, cursing his inability to talk. "If I become too preoccupied with death, I'm just going to die sooner. And if I get to Heaven and see Clay again and I haven't slept with you yet, he's going to kill me."

Phoenix blinked, mouth slightly ajar. "Wow, Apollo. You really need to work on your seduction technique."

"Shut up," Apollo snapped back.

Phoenix crossed his arms. "Oh, real mature. Who says I want to sleep with you now?"

"Your dick does," Apollo said, reaching out and rubbing him. "Do you just get off on other peoples' misery?"

Phoenix remained composed, although his cheeks were flushing. "No," he replied. "I just get off on your – everything."

"Who knew you were so sentimental?" Apollo teased. "So what'll this be – 'making love' instead of 'fucking'?"

"There is nothing wrong with either of those terms," Phoenix replied. "But if you want to know the real truth – your, uhm," Phoenix tried to look away, but couldn't. "Your robe sort of, uh, fell open. And you've been half naked for – for most of this time, really."

Had Apollo still been numb, he might have shrugged it off. But as a sign of his return to normality, the young man gasped and moved to cover his body.

Phoenix laughed. "One minute, you're trying to get me off through my trousers. Suddenly you're all shy? Tell me the truth, Apollo: are you a virgin?"

"No!" Apollo said, a little too loudly. "I mean, it's been a while, but I'm not -" Phoenix was leaning over him, hand resting on Apollo's upper thigh, thumb caressing too close to groin.

"Do you have a bed, Justice?" he asked.

"Ah –" Apollo was shaking slightly from the anticipation, embarrassed and confused at how quickly their conversation had gone from comforting to dirty.

Phoenix didn't wait for a reply, opting to pick him up bridal-style and carry him into his own bedroom. But he wasn't dropped unceremoniously, as he expected to be; Phoenix laid him down gently, covering Apollo's body with his own. "In reply to your question," he whispered into Apollo's ear, running the tip of his tongue down the other man's cheek, "Why can't it be both?"

Apollo was dazed. There was too much to focus on. "Uh – what?"

Phoenix was now teasing a nipple. With his mouth. "Why can't it be both fucking and love-making? I never got that. They explain the same act, but one sounds less emotional. Why can't you fuck someone lovingly?"

Apollo wanted to know why he had to ask such deep questions when Apollo was so thoroughly distracted. "I – I don't – ah!" Phoenix had interrupted his already stilted train of thought by taking the whole of Apollo's cock in his mouth. Apollo took quick, frantic glances down to watch, but mostly looked away to avoiding coming too soon. When he thought himself ready to give up on holding back, Phoenix detached and kissed his stomach, just below his belly button.

"Y-you're overdressed," Apollo noted.

It had been early morning when Apollo called, so Phoenix had only thrown on the bare minimum – jeans, sneakers, a tee shirt. The sneakers had been ditched somewhere in Apollo's living room, but the shirt –

Well, the shirt was now gone too, dropped onto Apollo's bedroom floor. Phoenix balanced on his knees to work his pants and boxers down, letting them slide the rest of the way off as he slithered up Apollo's body. Apollo writhed underneath him, elevating his hips to rub against Phoenix's thigh.

When Apollo tried to sneak a hand between them and grab the other man's penis, his hand was batted away. "I told you, Apollo," Phoenix said, sucking a mark onto a highly sensitive part of Apollo's neck, "You need someone to take care of you."

Apollo whimpered in return, nails digging into Phoenix's side.

"Do you have anything?"

"Like?" Phoenix looked at him in disbelief. "Oh! Yeah, okay – uhm, yes, it's –" his hand flailed around the bedside stand, and Phoenix leaned over, grinding their hips together as he went. Apollo keened.

"Do you," Phoenix began kissing Apollo's collarbone. "Prefer to top?"

"N-no," Apollo whimpered. "A-anyway, I wanted you to f-fuck me –hng!"

Without warning, Phoenix had spread the lubricant over a finger and was rubbing the younger's entrance. "Good," he growled, pushing a finger in.

Apollo hadn't been lying about his previous sexual experience…it just so happened that this past experience had been several years ago, and Apollo didn't really do one-night stands. He'd started to, once or twice, but then became nervous halfway through and left the bar. He wasn't a stranger to stimulating himself either, although masturbation had recently left him feel awkward. It was probably not a good idea to fantasize about your boss –

Wright pushed a second finger in, and Apollo huffed. "You okay?" he asked softly. Apollo nodded, and found his mouth covered by another as the fingers pushed in and out. Phoenix caressed Apollo's bottom lip with his tongue, sucking it in to his own mouth and biting gently. The third finger added a burn, but it was worth it for the additional spark as Phoenix massaged Apollo's prostate.

Apollo hissed the other's name as the fingers were removed. Apollo panted as he watched Phoenix coat his own member with lubricant, stroking himself with precision. He looked to Apollo's eyes, to ask permission again. Apollo nodded. Phoenix guided Apollo's hips to an easier-to-reach position, placing a pillow underneath to help the elevation. Apollo was trying to tense up, but the slow speed of the moment was giving him ridiculous anxiety. Phoenix leaned over enough to cover Apollo's lips with his own as he thrust in slowly.

Apollo wanted to move his legs to capture Phoenix's waist and hold him closer, hold him steady, but he managed to restrain himself. When Phoenix broke away for air, Apollo bit his hand to keep from crying out. Phoenix pushed further in, leaving kisses and bites along Apollo's neck. Phoenix withdrew slightly, before thrusting back in further still.

Phoenix took Apollo's hand from his mouth and laced their fingers together. Apollo let out a loud pant and continued to breathe heavily as his chest heaved. Phoenix kissed him again, his tongue running along Apollo's. Apollo no longer held back his desire to pull the man closer, wrapping his legs around Phoenix's waist to draw him nearer. Phoenix groaned into Apollo's mouth, getting the message and beginning to move.

He was slow to start with, removing his tongue from Apollo's mouth to leave soft kisses as he rocked back and forth, never really leaving Apollo's body. Phoenix pressed their foreheads together, letting their breath mix together in the close proximity. Apollo quivered from the touches, but it wasn't quite enough.

Phoenix pulled Apollo's legs so that they were no longer crossed along his back. He kept them spread as his thrusts sped up, until he was in as far as he could go.

Apollo gasped, knuckles turning white from strain as he tangled the sheets between his fingers. He wanted to push back, to keep going, but he had no intention of attempting to take charge from Mr Wright. So Apollo only breathed loudly, back arching slightly off the bed.

"You look gorgeous," Phoenix whispered. Apollo blushed, rather disagreeing with his partner. He knew he hadn't really been taking care of himself. There was no way in hell he resembled even the basest form of attractive. But Phoenix didn't allow him time to reply, kissing him soundly while pumping his hips. He brushed into Apollo's prostate and the young man gave a shout before clapping a hand over his mouth. Phoenix growled in frustration, one hand leaving Apollo's thigh to knock the hand away. "I want to hear you, _Polly_," he demanded. "What's all that vocal training for if you can't use it, hm?"

Phoenix rearranged Apollo's hips so that the younger was nearly sitting in his lap. Apollo's hands scrambled loosely on the bed, no longer gripping the sheets for purchase. The noises he made were mostly gasps, groans, loud but brief shouts, deep and long moans. No words until he got close to orgasm, Phoenix taking hold of his dick and teasing the slit on each upstroke.

Apollo grabbed Phoenix's shoulders, pulling the two chest to chest. "Jesus!" he shouted in between groans, his nails digging into his lover's slippery flesh. Phoenix was now purposefully and carefully aiming to hit his prostate, to tease him with every touch. He could feel his own abs getting tight, but didn't want to come before Apollo.

Unable to work his head down and unwilling to cover up Apollo's mouth, Phoenix used his free hand to toy with a nipple while his mouth worked on Apollo's neck.

His ministrations had the desired effect as Apollo swore loudly and started to recite something that sounded like Latin. The noise was doing something funny to Phoenix's brain, and he only barely registered Apollo shouting his name before succumbing to his own ecstasy.

Phoenix rolled off of Apollo, but wrapped a hand around his waist to keep them close. Apollo looked debauched, filthy, and completely edible. He wanted to suggest they go again, with or without a clean up, before realizing Apollo was fast asleep beside him.

* * *

Trucy didn't bother asking why her daddy left the house at three o'clock in the morning. She didn't ask why he spent the night at Apollo's, or why he returned looking disheveled but pleased with himself. She didn't ask why Apollo was late, or flustered, why he blushed and squirmed when sitting down. She remarked that Apollo seemed to have finally gotten a good night's sleep, and his complementary flush was the only tell-tale sign she needed.

Athena, on the other hand, was not so subtle. She could hear Apollo's heart all right, and commented that he seemed happier than he had been – and wasn't that great! She hadn't been expecting Widget to pipe up with the idea that Apollo looked well and thoroughly laid, though she probably should have.

No one was expecting Mr Wright to pop up with "that's because he is," although they probably should have expected that too.


End file.
